Hell's Bells
by Phoenicis Lunae
Summary: When Sam and Dean go hunting for vampires, they discover something unexpected: a woman who claims to be the last of Samuel Colt's kin. Yet 'Sarah Colt' proves to be the least of their troubles when Azazel intervenes, changing everything. With the Winchesters' ward in the picture, will they survive Azazel's new "trials"? AU.


**Author's Note:** First Supernatural fanfic! Reposted after some editing and revision. I hope you like it!

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**- HELL'S BELLS -**

**_Chapter 1- Fright Night_**

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_"Back in 1835, when Halley's Comet was overhead, same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter. A man like us, only on horseback. Story goes, he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him... Somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say... they say this gun can kill anything." - John Winchester_

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**Manning, Colorado - April 20, 2006**

Turning over the pages of his book idly, Daniel Elkins surveyed what had become his life's work.

To anyone else, his personal journal, when examined by anyone of normal standards, or 'typical folk', as he called them nowadays, would seem like a work straight out of the Satanical occult. They wouldn't be too far off the mark, either; though most of his work dealt with hunting down and slaying vampires, he had come across quite a few 'covens' of the human kind over his six decades of experience in 'the business'. Of course, nine times out of ten, these sorts of so-called 'Satanists' weren't the real deal...but there had been at least one occasion where at least coven posed a real threat.

Nevertheless, it was always the same; usually he would infiltrate them, get to know their inner workings, and gain the trust of the group enough to gain access to their 'private library'. Other times...well, let's just say that the particularly deadly Satanists, the ones who knew exactly what the hell they were doing, ran into his silver blade...and they ran into his knife again...and again...and again. Served them right, the fools; some, especially the leaders, had ideals of becoming demons themselves, while others simply pledged an unbreakable blood oath to a demon lord, exchanging their souls in return for the secrets of necromancy, the dark occult, and, of course, the kicker - _witchcraft._

Flipping over to one of his newer pages in his journal, Elkins glanced over a recent newspaper article that he had paperclipped to the top over the worn, browning page beneath. _Three college students go missing; police suspect foul play, drug ring._

At that, Elkins snorted. Of course the 'typical', know-nothing police would try and get up in this business...sniffing and sticking their noses where they didn't belong. If he didn't intervene soon, likely more of the idiots, however well-intentioned and ignorant that they might be, would likely become fresh blood for the teens' kidnappers...

"Mr. Elkins?"

Elkins ignored the bartender's inquiring voice, mumbling to himself under his breath.

"Mr. Elkins..."

Snapping his head up, Elkins lifted his face up suddenly, paying rapt, though short-lived, attention to the speaker.

"...would you like another?"

"Yeah," Elkins said, nodding once, his voice gruff. "Thanks, Bess."

With that, Elkins returned to scribbling more notes down in his journal, pausing as he gripped the red marker in his hand. As he skimmed the article for what seemed to be the hundredth time, Elkins, reading again about the locations and circumstances of the kidnappings, felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Something about these kidnappings wasn't right...although all the signs pointed to a typical vampire coven staking claim on the area, and targeting young men and women as their prey, something seemed...different...

Suddenly, slow realization began to dawn through the thick fog of Elkins' slowly increasing buzz as the elder, grizzled man felt chills go down his spine.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, by the clank of an empty glass to his right.

"Captain Jack, if you please," came a familiar voice.

Glancing up again, his eyes narrowing, Elkins watched as Bess nodded to her newest customer, leaning over to take the shot glass with a bottle of Private Stock.

Turning, Elkins stared as he took in the sight of the person next to him: a younger woman, though her weathered face was one he immediately recognized.

"Thank you," the woman murmured as Bess returned her shot glass, now full. With a curious glance, however, she let her eyes stray to a staring Elkins.

"Get one for that fellow over there, too, on me. He looks like he could really use it."

"Mr. Elkins?" Bess asked, dubious. "He normally prefers whiskey..."

"No, Bess," Elkins suddenly spoke. "It's alright. Thank you."

Nodding, Bess got a second shot glass for Elkins, who turned to face the newcomer, who squinted at him amid the dim light of the bar. With a smile, she lifted her shot glass towards Elkins, licking her lips as she pursed them over her teeth.

"To old times," she suggested. Glaring at her raised glass, Elkins didn't respond; raising an eyebrow at the older man, the woman raised it an inch higher for emphasis. Finally, with a sigh, Elkins relented, raising his glass, wordlessly, to clink against hers.

With one motion, the two simultaneously tipped their heads back and downed the rum. Setting her glass down on the table, the stranger grimaced, her eyes squinting to the point where they looked nearly shut.

"Whoo-wee!" she whistled. "Sweet as hell, and burns just as much on the way down. Still, better than my usual Fireball."

Elkins said nothing, simply eying the woman warily from across the little space between them.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" Elkins responded stiffly, his hand tightening as he set the glass down. "Show me your teeth."

"What?" the woman exclaimed with a laugh. "You're joking, right?"

"I said," Elkins emphasized lowly, "Show me your teeth."

Looking down, the stranger's light expression quickly disappeared as the clear cocking of a gun could be heard, and she felt a narrow muzzle jammed into her stomach.

"Is that...?"

"Try anything and you'll find out, sweetheart," Elkins added, "You must be one hell of an amateur if you thought you could pull that sort of crap on me. Now...your teeth."

Elkins nudged her ribcage twice, hard. The woman obeyed, lifting her chin as she pulled back her lips to reveal straight, white teeth. With two fingers, she lifted her upper lip, exposing her gums.

"See? I'm not one of them," she explained, then added with an annoyed whisper. "Now...will you please take your damn gun off me?"

"Sorry, lady. Today's not your lucky day," Elkins hissed back, "You may not be one of them, but sure as hell I'm not letting you off the hook that easy. Who the_ hell_ are you?"

Just then, the front door to the bar slammed open. The two whipped their heads around to see a group of young men and women, dressed like bikers, stride through the entrance, laughing. Elkins quickly removed his gun, slipping it back into his jacket pocket, as his 'guest''s expression seemed to harden.

"What'll you have?" Bess greeted the group as they approached the bar, seating themselves.

"Jack all around, leave the bottle," their apparent leader, a brunette woman, spoke up.

"Great," Bess said, only to be interrupted by the brunette leader again.

"We have dinner plans."

Just as Elkins' guest turned to leave, Elkins grabbed her wrist, fastening onto her arm with sweaty, calloused palms.

"Come with me," Elkins hissed, tugging her along. Obliging, the stranger nodded mutely as Elkins tugged her through the back door, causing the wood to creak as it swung behind them.

"Lemme guess. Friends of yours?" the young woman asked dryly, as Elkins dragged her towards his car.

"You could say that," Elkins grunted.

"So, what are they?"

"Vampires, that's what," Elkin growled, "Though if you were actually _experienced _at what you do, you'd know that already."

"I'm plenty experienced enough already," she shot back. "And I'm certainly a lot more physically fit than you seem to be."

"Get in the car," Elkins ordered, unlocking and opening the passenger door of what was his '64 Chevy pickup truck.

"Alright, alright," the woman sighed, climbing up and shutting the door behind her. Elkin himself all but ran to the driver's side, climbing in quickly as he revved the engine, which roared to life after three attempts. Stomping on the gas, Elkins screeched out of the bar's parking lot, hitting the highway as the forested scenery around them flew by.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"Someplace safe," Elkins mumbled gruffly.

"I hope you're not taking us back to your home," the woman said, "That'll be suicide, for both of us. You and I both know that once these things have your scent, they have it for life. They're also like sharks...they can smell you from miles away."

"Doesn't matter."

"'Doesn't matter?' Of course it damn well matters!" the woman argued. "I don't want to end up some bloodsucker's snack, for one!"

Elkins simply ignored his unwilling passenger as she continued to speak.

"Really, Elkins? Have you really been hunting vampires for so long that you've gone senile? What the hell are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that once we get to my place," Elkins grunted, removing his pistol again from his pocket and cranking it. "I'll kill these bastards once and for all."

"Kill them? How would you do that...unless..." the woman began, pausing. "You have it, don't you?"

To that, Elkins did not respond.

"Dear God..." the woman breathed. "After all this time...I might have suspected. After all, the legends did point to it. All these years, it's been staring me in the face this entire time."

"It's none of your _Goddamned_ _business_!"

"I believe it is," the woman replied, coldly. "The Colt belongs to me, Elkins."

"_Hell_ it does! It's been in my family for generations. It's my birthright, and hell if I let it fall into the hands of a wannabe amateur!"

"I don't think so."

Reaching into her own pocket, the woman whipped out a pistol of her own - though, compared to Elkin's old-fashioned gun, it was more sleek, modern, smaller, and lightweight. She pointed it directly at Elkin's head.

"When this is all done and over with," she continued, "You will give me the Colt. No questions asked, no ifs, no buts."

"Really? ...if that's what you want, you'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands," Elkins hissed in response.

"That can be arranged," she responded lowly, the clicking of the pistol indicative of her seriousness.

"You _wouldn't_."

"Oh, but I _would_."

"We're here," Elkins retorted curtly. Reluctantly, the woman withdrew her pistol, though kept it in her right hand as she and Elkins exited the car, slamming the doors behind them.

Rushing to the front door, Elkins unlocked it, and the woman followed him inside as the elder hunter just as quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.

Turning around, however, the two watched as the familiar, lean figure from the woman from the bar came out of the darkness.

"It's been a while," she greeted Elkins, "I was gonna say...you look old. And who's your pretty young friend there?"

"What do you want?" Elkins replied gruffly, his eyes trained on the newcomer.

"What do you think?"

In a flash, Elkins reached onto the nearby table, drew out a long dagger, and threw it into the woman's chest - where it sunk into her flesh with a thud.

"Damn," the woman remarked, almost melancholy. With ease, she seemed to treat the wound as though it were nothing, pulling it slowly out of her chest for greater effect. "You can do better than that."

Turning, Elkins grabbed his companion's wrist again, dragging her into what appeared to be his bedroom. Locking the door, he flung himself onto the nearest bookshelf, pushing it front of the door as the young woman beside him helped.

As soon as the bookshelf was in place, Elkins flew over to the cabinet, and throwing it opened, revealed the silver outline of a safe.

"C'mon, c'mon..." Elkins pleaded, doing the combination as fast as he could. Meanwhile, reaching into her jacket, the young woman pulled out a new cartridge, replaced the one in her pistol, snapped it into place, and loaded it.

"Bullets laced with saffron," she said, "Should keep them at bay."

Suddenly, loud banging was heard at the door as the vampire tried to break its way in. Elkins, finishing the combination, retrieved an old, antique box from the safe, throwing open its lid to reveal an equally ancient Texas Paterson gun.

"The Colt," the woman said lowly, "You better damn use it wisely, if you have to...else I'll have your guts for garters."

Elkins quickly loaded the Colt, placing the bullets in swiftly as his younger companion kept her gun leveled at the door, both her hands gripped around its handle.

Suddenly, the glass of the ceiling above them shattered as two male vampires dropped in. The young woman whipped around, but too late; one of the vampires easily knocked the gun out of her hand, and the other threw her across the room. Her body slammed against the opposite wall with a sickened crack, and her body fell to the floor, slumping as blood trickled down the back of her head and through her hair.

Meanwhile, the bookshelf fell forward with a loud groan, revealing an empty doorway - and the brunette vampire, looking cool as ever. The other two, male vampires quickly restrained Elkins, slamming him head-first against the desk as he made feeble noises in return.

Slowly walking over the Elkins, the gleam of silver met the female vampire's eye, and noticing the Colt on the red rug in front of her, bent down to pick it up.

"Hmm," she hummed, examining the gun with both hands with a sigh. "Nice gun...wouldn't do you much good, of course."

Elkins could do little more than gasp as both male vampires, their hands keeping him pinned to the desk, grinned up at their leader.

"Boys...we're _eating in_ tonight!"

With that, the two males sank their fangs into Elkin, the latter screaming as they tore apart his flesh. The sickening sound of limbs being ripped from his body, and vicious sucking noises, could be heard as the monsters attacked Elkins. Fresh blood splattered across the room, and what was once Elkins' arm flew, smacking with a wet thud against the opposite wall.

"Ah...sweet revenge," the female said, sighing as she closed her eyes, smelling the pungent, iron odor. When she opened them again, her eyes had transformed into burning, crimson red.

"And what do we have here...?" the female crooned, waltzing slowly over to the slumped figure of the young woman on the floor. Crouching before her, the vampire leader reached forward with one finger, dipping it in the steady flow of blood that streamed from a wound on the back of her head.

Lifting the dark, blood-dipped finger to her nose, the vampire sniffed it, wary. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

"No...it can't be. They're all dead!" the vampire hissed.

"Think again," came the low voice of Elkins' companion in front of her.

The vampire screeched as her adversary fired several bullets into her body, backing off as her male counterparts also shrieked, a few straw bullets hitting them as well.

With a flash, they were gone, the echoes of their cries leaving as they fled Elkins' cabin.

"Bloodsucking...bastards," the young woman muttered, her eyes fluttering shut as she slumped into unconsciousness.

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**Disclaimer:**_ Supernatural_ and all related literary characters are © 2013 to the CW and Eric Kripke. This is an unauthorized work of fiction, and should not be regarded as canon or real in any way. _Hell's Bells_, all unrelated characters, are © 2013 to me, and are not be used in any other works of fanfiction not authorized or written by me without my permission.


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